My bag was so light, I had to add a couple bricks to keep it from blowing away.

Bag Buddies

Justice League Dark #14 (Uh oh. The art’s different! Arrrrrgh! It’s not Mikel Janin. Hmm. One of the selling points on this book: Janin’s ladies. Woman oh woman oh woman. Not a good sign. I hope this doesn’t turn into Justice League Jetsam.)

Fatale #10 (A page turn or two… OK. Its papers seem to be in order.)

FF #1 (Took a friggin’ flier on it. Could be fabulous. Could be a fail.)

All-New X-Men #2 (I had no desire to purchase this. None. But as it turned out, my guy didn’t have a couple of books I wanted, and I had some room on my $20 as a result. So… I gotta get some credit, though: at least I passed on Uncanny Avengers.)

Guess a Little Trip’s in Order

Bedlam #2 (I was actually looking forward to it. That’s right: I’m giving Nick Spencer another shot. Just might take me a while to give it to him.)

SC: Let me tell you: I’m totally into this book. This issue, in particular, is a cornucopia of comic book goodness. For one, the tone is timeless: you’ve got your comedy, your tragedy, your mysteries, your revelations, and action, action, action! I mean, #3 promised Nazi monks and that’s what Van Lente, Clayton Henry, and Matt Milla deliver in #4: psychic Nazi monks with little mustaches, which they seem to “just like”–for whatever reason. The comedy continues as one of the monks belts Archer with a belly-busting, “You just been blitzkreiged, dummkoff!” But the knockout blow: A Geomancer–you know you know what that is–is crushed almost to death after shouting, “The Earth is saved!” He asks Armstrong for “one wish…”; Armstrong replies, “Uh, do I haveta? Kinda got a lotta stuff on my plate right now.” Flat out funny! As luck would have it, the Geomancer’s eventual death sets the scene for the return of another Valiant heavy hitter. Expect a home run. Heil Van Lente! Heil Henry! Heil Milla! They’re doing everything just reich.

DM: I agree about the book, but I-

SC: I think I’ll drop the Nazi puns and stick with the baseball allusions: Valiant went two-for-two for the week with the other hit coming from Bloodshot #5. There have been some pretty remarkable–and remarkably gruesome–sequences to open books of late. This opening sequence? An absolute bull’s eye of a flashback. How great is Gamma, a green-frocked hulk of a woman, who tends to children–young psiots–imprisoned at Project Rising Spirit? Her grandmotherly countenance is counterbalanced by bulging biceps and a terrible threat to an overpowered young Melissa: “Don’t tell anyone…but I enjoy the troublesome ones.” That sequence segues into the present seamlessly as an adult Melissa is jarred from sleep, presumably the result of this horrible memory from her youth. The rest of the story is developed dynamically as the assault on the P.R.S. facility is supported slyly by off-color slices of a scene that reveals Kara’s role as a nanite-smuggling Trojan horse; that way, Bloodshot could circumvent all of P.R.S.’s security measures! Brilliant! With the final splash–a promise of a bloody showdown between Bloodshot and the killer Chainsaw crew–Duane Swiercynski, Manuel Garcia, and Arturo Lozzi prove that they’ve got something special brewing here; and to think I was an issue away from dropping this title from the ol’ pull list!

DM: I didn’t read that one, but I would like t-

SC: I am definitely an issue away from dropping Wolverine and the X-Men. With #20, it’s clear: I’ve been duped. For one, I never should have jumped on board; I mean, it really has nothing that appeals to me: I’m not a fan of Wolverine or the irregular cast of characters; and the mutant struggle for acceptance in an intolerant world doesn’t necessarily shout silliness as a rule. But there was always something that drew me back month after month or week after week–which, by the way, is another issue I have with this title: its being a more than monthly for no good reason, other than to take advantage of saps like me. And this issue has finally sapped any interest I’ve had in this book, which was mostly born from the brave and bold pencils of Chris Bachalo. For one, I’m sick of fill-in issues. That’s what this series has felt like for a while NOW! And this issue does nothing to buck that trend. I mean, the artwork–by Steve Sanders–doesn’t help matters, that’s for sure: Iara, the utterly pointless new mutant Shark Girl, is established on pages 2-4. I don’t know who the heck the girl is on pages 6 and 7. I know it’s supposed to be Iara, but it looks nothing like her. I don’t know how many times I turned back a page and then forward a page just trying to get comfortable with the unexpected shift in her appearance. It was in that worthless exercise that I decided that I was done. But I persevered: bumped into a Beast who looked like he’d be more comfortable harassing some pigs in some fairytale housing development; happened upon a horny Silver Samurai with a girl-on-Shark Girl fetish; and found myself awash in anime. And wouldn’t you know: there’s some noggin’ noshin’! (It’s uncanny how many head-chomping moments there have been in comics over the last several months. In fact, in last month’s awful Wolverine Max #1, a woman has her head torn off by a shark! Imagine that!) But it wasn’t enough to turn me around. A classic example of too little too late. And please, don’t get me started on the stupid Mudbug and the poorly put together final page, which looks like several villains have been copied and pasted on top of each other without any care for the final product. Did I mention I didn’t like this issue?

DM: And now on to-

SC: But I did love–love, love, love–Frankenstein: Agent of S.H.A.D.E. #14. And I’ll bet next week’s Wolverine and the X-Men that you did, too.

DM:Anyway, what I’d really like to highlight is the return of Saga (Image). After a couple of months off, Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples bring us Chapter Seven of their free-wheeling epic. When last we saw the alien husband and wife team of Alana and Marko, their tree/spaceship had been invaded by…his parents. Marko and Alana are from separate warring alien races so, needless to say, mom and dad aren’t pleased. Beautiful setup, conflict ensues, family secrets are divulged. The blend of Romeo and Juliet, Star Wars and Meet the Parents is a pitch perfect tale for our postmodern, genre-bending, mash-up culture. Still not enough for you? Well Vaughan is kind enough to throw in a splash page, full-frontal gross-out, lovingly rendered in all its grotesquery by Ms. Staples. (I can’t un-see it! I can’t un-see it!) Welcome back.

Another highly anticipated return is Garth Ennis’ superlative Battlefields: The Green Fields Beyond #1(Dynamite). Ennis is a supremely versatile writer who seems to enjoy working in a variety of modes, from splatter/gore (Crossed) to genre satire (The Boys). If those books are where he gets his jollies out, his Battlefields series has consistently showcased him at full maturity. Here his command of character, thematic depth and period texture (ably abetted by artist Carlos Ezquerra) are on full display. Taking place at the height of the Korean War, the story reintroduces Sgt. Stiles, last seen in WWII in The Firefly and His Majesty. Something of a hothead in previous series, he’s presented here as a soldier thoroughly chastened by his experiences. Through him, we are witness to the tragedy, absurdity and, yes, heroism of war. Ennis’ respect for history, and the men who lived it, shine through on every page. These may be fictional characters, but with his uncanny ear for dialogue and truly prodigious research, Ennis has breathed life into them. Not that there isn’t plenty of violence and foul language to go around, but because it arises in the context of war, these are not only completely earned, but utterly necessary. War comics at their best. Ennis at his best. Book of the Week.

Changing gears, we have The Zaucer of Zilk #2 (IDW) by Al Ewing and Brendan McCarthy. The conclusion to this preposterous flying circus of a comic surprises and delights on every level. If you haven’t read it yet-

After some serious cover-to-cover comic gridlock, this week–so very welcomed, indeed!–is the equivalent of a rest stop–a sweet, sweet rest stop. I’m takin’ the exit, baby.

Who kNOWs?

FF #1: I’m willing to give it a shot–if only to find an offbeat replacement for Wolverine and the X-Men. Mr. Allred may be the man for the job.

FF#1 Cover

Definitely Choosy

Justice League Dark #14: Lemire’s keeping it unreal–and it’s fun! And, yes, this is the only DC book I’m definitely picking up this week. I’m done with Batman Incorporated and The Flash. I’m also not entirely sold on Lot 13. But who knows: I may suffer a rack attack with so few books in my bag and may grab for a stray or two.

Image–ine That!

Bedlam #2: Earned another issue with a wildly violent and mildly mysterious #1.

Fatale #10: Where Brubaker’s been doin’ his thing–a really good thing.

“I’m worried about what’s going to happen next. I’m worried that the power they are holding is more than they can handle. In fact I know it is…What happens when they aren’t able to hold it any longer?” – Captain America, AVsX #11

Captain America is right to be worried. The Marvel Universe is facing a dire threat to its very fabric. It’s not from Thanos, Galactus or even Scott Summers, but from an unexpected quarter. The people in charge.

Every comics fan has one – that comic book that hooked them, that opened their mind to the nigh-limitless possibilities offered within its four-colored, dog-eared pages. For me, as I suspect it was for many boys of my generation, that book was Marvel Super Heroes Secret Wars. Here it was, an entire, well-defined universe, brimming with larger-than-life heroes and villains with a shared history, tackling a new, unimaginable threat. This was my entry point into the master-narrative (a term used by Douglas Wolk, as good a writer on comics as you will find) into the Marvel Universe. And as a primer, it did its job beautifully. My ten-year-old mind was set a-buzz: gods, super-soldiers, mutants, and especially Spider-Man. For the next ten years or so, I would eagerly devour their exploits, breathlessly anticipating each month’s installment, as the previous ones were carefully bagged and filed, to be revisited easily and often.

And then, like many comcis fans, I drifted away. I was in college, reading, creating and experiencing things that made those larger-than-life characters seem more and more inconsequential. This was also a period (the early-mid nineties) that saw some headline-grabbing shake-ups of some of comics’ most iconic characters: Superman was killed! (and then came back), Batman was crippled! (and then came back, like in the movie), and Peter Parker was “revealed” to be a clone! (until he wasn’t). Whatever the merits of these stories, they did, to my mind, have the whiff of desperation. And once the status quo was (inevitably) re-established, there seemed to be no place new for these characters to go. Like never before in my comics-reading experience, a sense of “spinning their wheels” set in. And so I moved on.

I never completely dropped my comic habit, picking up the odd graphic novel or trade paperback (there is a distinction, which I’ll get to later). But for years, I gave up my Wednesday habit (if you don’t know what that is, I both pity and envy you.)

The comic that brought me back into the (stapled) fold was Civil War. Here at last was a super-hero story that had captured the zeitgeist. In the midst of the second term of the Bush administration, we had a story involving heroes fighting passionately over the central debate of the era: To what extent were we willing to sacrifice our rights in the name of security? Like the country, it split the costumed community down the middle. On one hand we had Captain America and his followers, on the side, not surprisingly, of preserving our freedoms. On the other, somewhat more surprisingly, was Iron Man (not yet a movie star) and company taking the security side as a practical manner, with the resources of the U.S. government behind them. Cap and crew, presented as underdogs, were perhaps more sympathetic. But the creators, to their credit, took pains not to take sides; each view was presented as legitimate. Echoes of the real world abounded: people were branded traitors, paranoia reigned, inhumane detention centers were quickly established and filled. Spider-Man, the eternal Everyman, was caught in the middle; he first sided with Iron Man, then switched over to Cap’s team. It was an even bolder move then, when Marvel had Iron Man’s side ultimately claim victory. Iron Man was placed in charge of the country’s security, with all grey ethical dilemmas that implied.

The ending was unconvincing (after seven issues of vicious fighting, Cap, on the brink of victory, surrenders because he’s suddenly worried about losing the moral high ground). But I was thrilled by events (current events, no less!) that truly seemed to shake the good ol’ Marvel U down to its core. That, and (youthful power fantasies aside) there’s just something cool about watching all these super-types get together and throw down. (There’s a reason The Avengers movie made a hundred-gajillion dollars). And so I resumed my Wednesday habit.

With said resumption I quickly learned some things about the Marvel U that had occurred in my absence. It seems the powers that be had, at some point, decided to shift the focus away from the X-Men franchise and toward the Avengers. To speed this along, the X-men’s most popular character, Wolverine, was now an Avenger, as well as the company’s flagship hero, Spider-Man. All well and good. But at the same time there was a conscious effort to de-emphasize the X-Men.

Now the X-Men had long been fan favorites. Much of their popularity stemmed from their role as perennial underdogs. As mutants, they were heroes who were born different, forced to deal with a world that feared and hated them. This was a simple, brilliant paradigm (especially during Chris Claremont’s unparalleled run) that could encompass any number of themes on a societal or personal level; civil rights, sexual orientation (as seen in the X-Men movies) or just the onset of adolescence. Many was the comics fan who could identify with such feelings of alienation. Well, in the X-Men’s world, the Xavier School for Gifted Youngsters was a learning institution filled with such outcasts. And the X-Men, more than being just super-heroes, were their role models, what they could aspire to be. This mixture of melodrama, family dynamic (often dysfunctional), social consciousness, and of course all-out action enthralled fans and kept the X-Men at the top of the sales chart, virtually unchallenged, for twenty years. The decision by the powers that be to give a major push to the Avengers at the expense of the powerhouse X-Men seemed curious. But that’s just what they did in House of M.

House of M was the epic event prior to Civil War; the previous chapter in the Marvel master-narrative, if you will. It centered around the Scarlet Witch, a mutant B – lister who was previously best known for being married to a robot (now that was a comic with potential!) In HoM, her ill-defined hex power was suddenly and without explanation boosted exponentially. Mentally unbalanced at this point in her life, she first creates an entire alternate universe to escape her torment. When that doesn’t work she famously (and somewhat bafflingly) utters the phrase “No more mutants.” And – poof! – 99% of the world’s mutants instantly lose their powers. X-Men de-emphasized. This was actually the first manifestation of the Scarlet Witch’s most advantageous superpower: what I like to call the power of editorial dictum. In other words, why was she able to accomplish these great feats? Because the story needed her to.

Anyway, in the aftermath of Civil War a couple of things happened. Captain America was killed (very temporarily). And Spider-Man (I still can’t believe this, even as I type the words) sold his marriage to the devil. Why? Because it was suddenly decided that it was uncool for him to be saddled with a wife. So instead of having him get a divorce like a normal person, they had their flagship character, Marvel’s most selfless, noble hero, make a deal with the devil to erase his marriage (the devil has always, in literature, had the power of editorial dictum). In what warped view is a Faustian bargain a more palatable option than just ending a marriage? In any case, the result? The adventures his readers had been following for twenty years? Irrevocably altered. A disastrous decision from which Marvel’s most beloved character still hasn’t recovered.

Returning to the overarching master narrative, Civil War was followed by Secret Invasion, a series in which shape-shifting aliens, called Skrulls, had meticulously planted themselves in all levels of society in order to conquer humanity from within. This series was undeniably entertaining for a number of reasons. The Marvel writers (most notably Brian Michael Bendis) had been peppering their stories for years with clues that something was seriously amiss. This story was the culmination of all that impressive, meticulous planning; part of the fun was going back and finding the clues, and being rewarded for your patient detection. Like Civil War, this story pit hero against hero, but this time not because of ideology, but because of paranoia; anyone could be a Skrull. While this was all a lot of fun, it was difficult, in light of Civil War, not to see this in the parameters of society at large. The enemy was among us. It was not much of a leap to replace “Skrull” with “Terrorist” (indeed the Skrulls’ mission was recast in extremist, quasi-religious language). By the logic of the story then, the infringement of rights to ensure security was entirely justified. In fact it didn’t go far enough, since the Skrulls were so successful. In short, the master narrative of the Marvel U had taken a hard turn to the right.

Secret Invasion resulted in a couple of developments. First, Iron Man was fired as head of US security. The reason given in the comic was that the Skrull invasion had happened on his watch. The real reason of course was that Marvel had an unexpected blockbuster on its hands in the first Iron Man movie (largely due to Robert Downey Jr.’s magnetic performance; so magnetic that Marvel gave Tony Stark’s personality and appearance a subtle makeover in the comics to try to match it). With Iron Man suddenly a hot property it wouldn’t do to have him in the unpopular, compromising position of being The Man. But apparently removing him from power didn’t go far enough in redeeming his character. No, Marvel actually took the extraordinary step of having Tony Stark erase his memory (in a story by Matt Fraction, that was actually pretty compelling in an old-movie-serial kind of way). He then rebooted his brain (he’d been saving it on a hard drive. No, really.) But, conveniently, his rebooted memories stopped just before the events of Civil War. Character instantly absolved of all guilt and messy moral quandary! Ready for Iron Man 2! Here we have another disturbing example (along with Spidey’s erased marriage) of selective retcon-ing in order to free a character (and lucrative property) of being dragged down by any undesirable story lines (you know, the stories the fans have been following for years).

The second development was Iron Man being replaced in his national security position by Norman Osborn (aka The Green Goblin). The narrative rationale for handing control of our national security apparatus to a proven maniac was wholly unconvincing (he took the shot that killed the Skrull Queen), though, I must admit, Norman Osborn was certainly a better approximation of Donald Rumsfeld than Tony Stark was. In any case, this had the sum effect of removing all the grey areas of the previous couple of years. Moral complexity be damned! It was Good Vs. Bad. And the bad guys were in charge. The story title? Dark Reign. The heroes were once again the underdogs.

This was certainly safer from a narrative standpoint. And it did set up a compelling showdown between the forces of Norman Osborn and the newly resurrected Captain America (he’d managed to stay dead for eighteen months!) And that’s what was promised in the next Big Event in the master narrative: Siege. But that’s not what we got.

The conflict in Siege is fairly preposterous: Osborn decides to attack Thor’s home of Asgard (which is floating over Oklahoma for some reason) on the pretext that it’s an incursion on U.S. soil. Whatever, it gets the action going. Osborn’s vaunted forces are fairly quickly (and anti-climatically) dispatched by Cap’s crew (the whole thing lasts just four issues), but Osborn has an ace in the hole; a character called the Sentry.

The Sentry was a fairly new character, whose history had been ret-conned (don’t ask) to establish that he had at one point been the greatest hero of the Marvel Universe, and certainly the most powerful. Someone they all looked up to and admired; sort of their Superman. But he had a dark side/nemesis called the Void, which threatened to take over his psyche. Hence he was highly unstable and easily manipulated by Osborn. Siege culminates with the Sentry losing control, and becoming the Void. The Sentry briefly regains control and begs the Avengers to kill him. Thor obliges, striking him down with a lightning bolt (it appears Thor, too, can wield the power of editorial dictum).

So Siege ends with the Avengers killing one of their own. Not just that, but supposedly their greatest hero. Perfectly understandable right? Had to be done. There was no other way.

Except…isn’t that why we admire these characters? The best of them, like Superman and Captain America, no matter the odds, no matter how hopeless things get, always find a way. Isn’t that why they inspire?

Siege then, seems like a means to an end. Like the decision to kill the Sentry, it was expedient; driven by the need to get from Point A to Point B in a way that was cold, calculated, and dare I say, corporate? This seems to be the new mindset of the Marvel offices and sadly, the Marvel Universe. Now Marvel is, of course, a business. Like any other major publisher, they have to make decisions based, at least partially, on their bottom line; it would be naive to imagine otherwise. But never before has this attitude manifested itself so baldly in the stories, even in the characters themselves. It seems we are a long way from the legendary, free-wheeling Bullpen days of Stan Lee and Jack Kirby.

(The next big event after Siege was something called Fear Itself, a story so bereft of purpose, cohesion and narrative logic, that it made Siege seem like Watchmen.)

Which brings us to the latest chapter in the Marvel master-narrative: Avengers Vs. X-Men. (Deep breath) Like Civil War, AvX features an old-fashioned throw-down between two groups of Marvel heroes. Unlike Civil War, one of the groups is clearly presented as being in the right. The Avengers, having been re-positioned over the previous few years to the center of the Marvel U (and newly-christened as box-office champs) are The Good Guys. The X-Men, overlooked for years, are repaid by being re-introduced into the master narrative not simply as mistaken or misunderstood, but as a threat to the earth’s very existence. And at the center of this folly stands the abused figure of Cyclops.

Now Cyclops is, of course, the X-Man. Central to their mythos, their alpha dog, their leader, their best (not that you’d know it from the movies.) He is their Captain America, the man with the plan, the one who will always, as I have said, find a way. Destroy his character and you delegitimize the worldview that the X-Men have represented over the last 30 years.

Let us skip the preliminaries and head straight to the nadir of the story (and indeed of the master-narrative in general): AvX #11. This particular issue is worth special consideration, emblematic as it is of the current state of the Marvel Universe. Cyclops has been infused with the power of the Phoenix, an unpredictable cosmic force capable of destroying existence (and which, years ago, caused the death of his true love Jean Grey – but not to worry! No compassion here.) Our issue begins with Captain America making an entreaty for help in the fight against Cyclops from an unknown source (the quote that began this unwieldy diatribe is taken from this plea.) Here are some choice nuggets from Cap’s opening address:

“…I am at the end of my rope.”

“…We just cannot win the fight in front of us.”

“We can’t win it.”

Again, this is Captain America. The man who never lost hope in the depths of World War II. (The fact that he’s supplicating himself to the Hulk, whose strength would be negligible against a force that could destroy the universe, is beside the point.) He may be wearing the flag, the big “A” and the little wingtips on his head, but I do not know who this character is.

To the ignominious climax. The Avengers have Cyclops surrounded, alone and raving, like some rabid dog (spittle, literally flying from his mouth). So I suppose it should come as no surprise when one of them, Hawkeye (y’know, Jeremy Renner in the movie) shoots him in the neck. Another Avenger callously observes, “Nice shot.” I’m sorry, since when do the Avengers resort to attempted murder to solve their problems? Much less the killing of a hero? (Oh that’s right. Since Siege.)

When this fails, Cyclops yells, “You see that?…They’re trying to assassinate us!!” If this is some kind of meta moment, where the character becomes aware of his creators’ intentions, then it is brilliant. Yes, Cyclops, they are trying to assassinate you, or worse, your character.

Storm, Cyclops’ former teammate (and at this point, like Wolverine, an Avenger, I guess?) pleads “Stay down Scott. I beg you.” Good ol’ Captain America adds “I don’t.”, in a misguided attempt to sound, I don’t know, bad-ass? (Maybe he’s a leftover Skrull…)

Cyclops, of course, doesn’t stay down. He is confronted by Professor X, who is, in every way that counts, his father. And then the moment that set the internet a-buzz, (and is possibly the lowest point in Marvel history): Cyclops kills Professor X.

X-Men destroyed. In one fell swoop.

Let’s be clear: it is not the death of Professor X that rankles; this is a character, after all, that has died and come back a lot, even by comic book standards. No, what is galling is the act of Cyclops murdering his father. There are some things even a comic book character can’t recover from. (DC tried a similar tack with Green Lantern nearly two decades ago in a story called Zero Hour. It took the character years to recover, and all he tried to do was destroy the space/time continuum; fairly standard super villain operating procedure. Killing Dad? Not so much.)

So take heed all you outcasts and undesirables! Professor X had a dream. And now it’s over. Society was right to fear and hate you. It turns out you were a menace after all.

(Want further proof that the X-Men worldview has been vanquished? The one holdover X-book, Wolverine and the X-Men, whatever its merits, is virtually a parody of everything they have stood for over the last thirty years. Comic books, too, repeat themselves, first as tragedy, then as farce.)

In the wake of AvX (oh yeah, Cyclops is finally put down when a mutant named – I would argue ironically – Hope, and again, the Scarlet Witch [ah that all-purpose power of Editorial Dictum] double-punch him. Game over!) we have been promised a shiny, sorta-newish Marvel Universe. It is being called Marvel NOW! and its coming has been foretold by months of advertisements which prominently feature Cap, arrogantly posed and smugly staring out at the viewer (who is this dick?) surrounded by various cohorts. These ads are further festooned with thick red-borders and imperative statements in bold, block lettering and resemble nothing so much as poorly-designed Soviet propaganda posters. Some coming highlights: Lot of Avengers books (featuring a bunch of former X-Men – I mean, where else were they gonna go?), a new, darker Spider-Man (oy vey) and, for the beleagured mutants, something called All-New X-Men. The concept: with the current X-Men in disarray, the original X-Men, still teenagers, are zapped to the present (y’know, bypassing all that messy civil rights stuff) as a way to hit the refresh button. The conceit: they are horrified by the current state of the Marvel Universe (well on that we can agree).

Which brings me to a Helpful Suggestion. The Marvel Now! initiative was done largely as a response to DC’s hugely successful New 52! relaunch of last year, in which they wiped the narrative slate clean and rebooted their entire universe from scratch. DC has a habit of doing this sort of thing every so often. A point of pride at Marvel is that they have never taken this approach. The stories you’re reading today are, ostensibly, a continuation of the stories begun by Stan and Jack over fifty years ago. Marvel has taken great pains to explain that Marvel Now! is…um…well, I’m not sure, but it is emphatically not a DC-style reboot. My question is, given the above snapshot of the Marvel Universe, why the hell not? Instead of just playing musical chairs with your established cadre of creators and using that as an excuse to haphazardly introduce some new #1 issues, why not just start the whole damn thing over? You don’t have to abandon your veteran creators, but bring in some fresh blood! Put them on your major books! The ship is sinking! History be damned!

Now. The above should not be interpreted as so much inchoate Marvel-bashing. (Just the fact that I’ve read these comics should tell you something.) They do, in fact, produce a number of very good books (just scroll down and see!) This is meant to suggest however, in the view of this lifelong fan and observer, that the master narrative (last time I’ll use the term, I promise) has been heading in an untenable overall direction for quite some time, and that those in charge (are they still called architects?) are ill-suited keepers of the flame.

So, does this mean that, once again, I’ve been disillusioned? That I’m about to give up my Wednesday habit a second time? Of course not. Having been reintroduced into the four-colored realm, I have surveyed the landscape. And I am excited by what I see. More than that; I’m convinced. The comic book medium has always had the same potential as any other narrative form (films, novels, television, etc.); that is to say, limitless. A casual glance will show that the sheer breadth of talent, diversity, subject matter (of which super heroes are an ever shrinking genre) and experimentation happening now (right NOW!) proves beyond any doubt that they are finally fulfilling that potential. It is my argument, my thesis, my conviction, that there has never been a better time to read comics. Saying you don’t like comics is like saying you don’t like movies. If you think they aren’t for you, you aren’t looking hard enough. A small sample of evidence:

Image Comics: currently the most exciting publisher around. Initially a boutique for a handful of superstars, their current mixture of established names and active scouring for new talent makes them comics’ equivalent of that cool indy music label (back when there were music labels) that is trend-setting by virtue of being fearless. Standout titles include the rollicking, sci-fi space opera, Saga by Brian K. Vaughan and Fiona Staples, and the neo-noir terror of Fatale by Ed Brubaker and Sean Phillips.

Not far behind is Oni Press, with its line of intriguing creator-owned work, such as Ted Naifeh’s moody, supernatural coming-of-age tale, Courtney Crumrin, and the laid-back, funky detective work found in Stumptown by Greg Rucka and Matthew Southworth.

Like a modern-day incarnation of Universal Studios from the 1930’s, Dark Horse Comics has a wide-ranging catalog, but their specialty is horror. And nobody does it better. The cornerstone of their house of horrors is Mike Mignola’s line of books (Hellboy, Baltimore, etc.) that combine a healthy respect for the history of the genre with the cold, unblinking eye of an auteur. They manage to feel classic and edgy at the same time.

The “ID” in IDW might well stand for “idiosyncratic”, as their eclectic range of titles include Roger Langridge’s retro, thoroughly excellent Popeye series as well as the Carrollian psychedelia of The Zaucer of Zilk by Brendan McCarthy and Al Ewing.

Dynamite Entertainment does some wonderful things with the heroes of yesteryear, whether they be of the pulp variety (the exuberant fun of Flash Gordon: Zeitgeist by Eric Trautmann and Daniel Indiro) or more historical in nature (Garth Ennis’ superlative Battlefields series; not only one of the best war comics ever, but also one of the best comics being produced right now, period.)

Speaking of history, Fantagraphics does truly commendable work reprinting the classics of funny pages past (Peanuts, Barnaby, etc). They also publish the funniest comic book on the planet, Michael Kupperman’s Tales Designed to Thrizzle.

How about something for the kiddies? kaboom! (BOOM!’s all-ages imprint) provides a healthy does of childlike wonder with the comic version of Adventure Time! as well as Roger Langridge’s (him again) inspired nonsense in Snarked!.

I haven’t even mentioned the rich world of graphic novels – not trade paperback collections of ongoing titles, but singular, literary works expressly conceived in the comic book medium. There just isn’t enough space to even scratch the surface of the wide array of practitioners of – oh, here’s three: Chris Ware, Alison Bechdel, and Jason Lutes. Go discover.

And, not to leave out the so-called Big Two: DC publishes some fine work, such as Brian Azzarello’s revisionist take on Wonder Woman and especially China Mieville’s nigh-undefinable Dial H. And finally, bringing things full circle, over at Marvel: Mark Waid’s award-winning run on Daredevil justly deserves the accolades it’s been receiving. And Brian Michael Bendis’ bold, risky choices on Ultimate Spider-Man have led to the introduction one of the most engaging new heroes in years, in young Miles Morales. (Hell, I’ll even cop to my excitement over one of the Marvel NOW! titles – Mike Allred drawing a goofy cast of B-listers in FF? Yes please.)

Marvel Comics will always hold a special place in my heart for igniting my love for the medium in the first place, and then again for bringing me back into the fold when I had strayed. And who knows? Perhaps their new initiative will produce some fun comics. But now, given the state of things as I continue to indulge my Wednesday habit, and peruse the embarrassment of riches that today’s comics have to offer (of which the above is only the smallest fraction), I am more likely than ever to say, “Marvel? Nah…”

I am officially out of control. I blame possession by an increasingly independent spirit–and the well-meaning intermediaries who conjured the damn thing in the first place. Truth be told, however, I’m not in the least interested in an exorcism.

Hey Ladies!

Batwoman #14: Just want to lose myself in it. In a weird way, I wish I could read it with the lights out.

Daredevil #20: Head games are always fun–especially when they’re played by Waid and Samnee!

Ultimate Spider-Man #17: Running on empty with this one.

Wolverine and the X-Men #21: #20 was a disaster–a straight-up embarrassment, really. This’ll be the make or break issue. If it’s break, I’ll be X-free. That’s right: Thanks to AvX and NOW! I’ll be X-free. Ridiculous.

Frankie Valiant and the Two Reasons

Harbinger #6: “I guess I still like it,” he said with a psi.

X-O Manowar #7: Needs to pick it up soon, or I won’t.

Torchwoodn’t You Know

Revival #5: I bought the first four last week. Pretty solid storytelling. Can you say AMC?

Derek Mainhart: Greetings from America’s northeast, where we’re learning to believe in Mayan predictions! How bad has it gotten? We’ve gone two weeks without comics! So let’s play catch-up and dive, a la Scrooge McDuck, into this huge pile of books. Given the apocalyptic weather, I thought we’d start with:

Colder #1 – I was originally going to give this one a pass. I was unfamiliar with the creators and the cover was a real stomach-turner (though a well-done and highly effective one – see for yourself):

Colder #1 Cover

So thanks, Scott, for nudging me to pick it up.

Scott Carney: Just another example of my bloody good taste.

DM: Indeed. The story, by Paul Tobin, begins with an explosive set piece in a mental institution. Though it goes a long way toward establishing the horror of the book, I did find the writing a bit twee in this sequence, especially regarding the dialogue of the inmates (“I am the pretty colors! I am a swirl of pretty colors!”) That same tone, however, is perfectly employed once we are introduced to the villain (or is he?) of the piece, one Nimble Jack. An appealing trickster type, he suggests a Lewis Carroll character as re-imagined by H.P. Lovecraft. Or perhaps a co-mingling of the latter day Joker (you know, the scary one) with Mr. Mxyzptlk. In any case, I imagine him being played in the film version by Crispin Glover of twenty years ago.

DM: ’86? Really? Wow. OK: the Crispin Glover of twenty-six years ago. Alright back to Jack. He’s not the main character of the story, but his actions and his personality drive it, as he pops in and out like some maleficent Cheshire Cat. As to the story, it revolves around the mystery of Declan Thomas and his ever decreasing body temperature. A former inmate of the aforementioned asylum, Declan is currently being cared for by Reece Talbot, a young doctor of some sort, and a bit of an odd duck herself. After the attention-grabbing beginning, the writing becomes more satisfyingly subtle. We get to know Reece through expository yet unforced dialogue, and she is a winning creature thus far. There is a nice combination of normalcy and menace that runs through the book; a hallmark of good horror. The same can be said of the art by Juan Ferreyra. It is clean, bright and uncluttered (unlike most horror art), and yet ever so lightly off. Having said that, I somewhat take issue with one sequence in the book. Early on, Reece is the victim of a mugging. I don’t mind the fact of the scene; given what happens earlier in the story, a mugging is rather tame. I object to the staging of it, which I’m assuming was the purview of Mr. Ferreyra. Violence against women is tough to take, and the close-up of Reece getting punched in the face–in the fourth panel of page 15–seems unnecessarily voyeuristic and exploitative, skirting the edge of playing it for laughs. It’s odd; I’m completely fine with inmates being burned alive in the initial sequence, but this stuck in my craw. It’s all a matter of how you choose to present it, I think. But this is a quibble. For the most part the excess promised by the cover is (thankfully as far as I’m concerned) never realized and we are instead presented with something else: a psychological horror story / mystery that is truly unpredictable. I’ll be back for the second issue.

SC: I liked it, too–mostly. Particularly the beginning. I kinda dig the fact that Colder kicks off with patient pyrotechnics. I like the loopy loquaciousness of the loonies as the flames lick a little love into ’em. But, yeah, it gets better with the introduction of the fantastically famished Nimble Jack, who does a delicious dance of depravity, which, dialogue-wise, is conveyed in a confusingly satisfying manner somewhat reminiscent of China Mieville’s consistently top-of-the-pile Dial H.

DM: Yeah. More on Dial H later.

SC: I’m not surprised. But, yeah, after Nimble Jack, more specifically after Reece meets up with the cop, the pace cuts to an almost intolerable crawl. It gets considerably colder. If I’m being honest, I didn’t believe their dialogue so much; I was kinda bored by it, actually. It felt forced, like I was being fed exposition after filling up on fast-paced fun. Even Jack couldn’t heat it up again: on page 22, his fire goes out in puffs of smoke when he can’t get a rise out of Declan. And the end? I thought it was at the same time completely expected and completely necessary. So, if I’m doing the math properly, it’s good enough to keep me around for number two.

DM: Another intriguing new horror entry is Lot 13 #1, though the results are decidedly more mixed. This one did come with a high pedigree; Steve Nlles and Glenn Fabry are both proven masters of the genre. Like Colder, this one establishes its dread with a scene of horrors past. When we get to the present, however, something odd happens to the tone. We are introduced to the Nelsons, who are about to move into a new home (always a bad idea in a horror story). They are presented as a typical American family; two cool yet responsible parents, a lovelorn, slightly goth teenage daughter and a couple of tweens, one of whom seems sensitive to things of a ghostly nature. The too-clever, knowing back-and-forth between the parents, as they balance the stress of moving while dealing with the kids, seems artificial, like something out of a sitcom. Even the pacing of the story, where a beat (comic or horror) is set up and delivered on almost every page feels structured more for a television show (you could almost envision where the commercial breaks would go. A perhaps related digression – I wonder why this comic was designated under the new DC Entertainment brand instead of Vertigo which has traditionally been DC’s repository for supernatural fare?) As opposed to the unforced naturalism we see in Colder, here what we get is akin to a queasy mash-up of Modern Family and American Horror Story. Still Fabry’s art (like Ferreyra’s) imbues even the everyday with a disquieting air. The cliffhanger (remarkably similar to the one in Colder) and the strength of the creators’ reputations will at least bring me back for next issue.

Lot 13 #1 Cover

SC: I agree with your TV show comparison. It’s perfect. In a way, that’s what I liked about it. In fact, after the grisly opening, which I really liked, I found that the appeal of the book came from its well-developed and deliberate dialogue. Speaking of: what’s up with the poorly-costumed curse words (“f&$%ing” and “h&%$”)? What purpose does it serve to half-heartedly hide them like that–especially when the sneak preview of The Girl with the Dragon Tattoo has the f-word in all its glory just three pages away from the final page of Lot 13?! I want to know! In fact, I demand an answer!

DM: Yeah I don’t get it either. I don’t have an answer for you.

SC: Well, f&$% you, then.

DM: Speaking of irritating use of invective: Happy! #2. The first issue, flawed as it was, at least held out the prospect of high-contrast hilarity to follow. Well here we are, two issues into a four issue mini-series, and that potential remains stultifyingly untapped. A Grant Morrison story usually bursts with innovation, pulses with energy. Here instead we get dreary, tired scenes of seedy environs, uninspired profanity, and lowlife violence. Nick, the hero (?) escapes his would-be killers at a hospital by beating them to death. Nick uses Happy to cheat at poker and then beats everyone to death. A pervert in a Santa suit (yawn) is introduced, presumably so Nick will at some point beat him to death. The counterpoint to all this, I suppose, is the running commentary provided by the eponymous equine. The problem is, unhappily, that the imaginary talking horse isn’t nearly as funny as Morrison seems to think he is.

SC: Oof. Yeah. It was rough. It’s like Morrison’s doing his best worst Garth Ennis impression. For example: the poker game. Ugh. Under Morrison’s watch, LeDic (Obvious jokes? Check!) and his cronies around the table–who look like members of an Ennis-penned wack pack, for goodness sake–are as friggin’ flat as can be. Are we supposed to accept that Morrison chose to keep these fellas, so full of potential hyperbole, under wraps for some good reason? Wait. Is that the reason? To kill it with understatement? No; come on: I mean, if you’re going to put a pot of water to flame, let it boil! Am I wrong? Christ! Ennis would have that table humming with quirkiness. Instead, it’s a flippin’ funeral. If he’s making a statement about Ennis or about something else, I’m not hearing it. Maybe, as is the case with Happy the Horse, only one person in the world can.

DM: Now for a truly inspired use of an imaginary horse, you need look no further that Dial H #6. China Mieville slows down this roller coaster of a comic for a “breather” issue as our hero, Nelson Jent, literally never leaves his living room. The reason? The super-hero alter-ego he’s “dialed-up” would be appalling to modern sensibilities. (David Lapham, uncredited on the cover, provides the pitch-perfect art.) This wickedly fun little issue serves a number of purposes. It nicely fills in some background information on the workings of the dial, as well the hitherto mysterious Manteau. It showcases an easy repartee between the two leads that humanizes their relationship. And it cleverly explores comics’ fraught history with racism and stereotype while using that discussion as a springboard toward broader issues of identity. And did I mention? It’s flat-out funny. I can’t think of another comic that will have you so gleefully looking up scatalogical definitions (interestingly, this is not the first use of “priapus” as a name of a comic book character). Now that’s how you do foul language! This single issue of two people talking in a room has more wit and invention than most comics can muster in a year. Book of the Week.

SC: Is it wrong that I read every bit of Nelson’s dialogue as “Eh-neeek-chock”?

DM: Nice!

SC: So, yeah: clearly, this is the Book of the Week. In fact, it may be my favorite single issue of any book of the New 52. I know it hasn’t been fashionable of late, especially in the political sphere, but I must insist: DC, please do the right thing; please send more jobs to China!

Wolverine and the X-Men #20 (This is the little comic that could, isn’t it? It’s completely irrelevant, yet it keeps clawin’ its way to my heart with all its–in terms of the other X-books–homo superior irreverence.)

Archer & Armstrong #4 (Yes, please.)

Bloodshot #5 (This may be gong the way of Suicide Squad: a book I want to unbag but just can’t bring myself to do it–mainly because of my nanite-supported laziness.)

Had to Add

All-New X-Men #1 (Open mind…open mind…open mind…)

Looks like I’ll have to find my Zaucer of Zilk zomewhere else. Zucks for me.